Already Gone
by KellyCRocker59
Summary: Inspired by the song. He had to know this wasn't his fault, because he couldn't have loved him better...he was already gone.


Already Gone

By: KellyCRocker59

This fanfic was inspired by the song by Kelly Clarkson, which I highly recommend you listen to on Youtube or something. I had a hard time writing this and listening to the song at the same time; there were definitely tears shed. Hope you enjoy, please review.

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Dean packed his things as quietly as he could, packing them away in his duffel bag. He kept his eyes away from the bed that laid beside him, away from the person sleeping so innocently in it. This wasn't his fault…none of it was his fault. This was all Dean. What about all the things they had wanted? All the memories…

The man stood, slowly lifting the bag's strap onto his shoulder. It was so early that it was still dark, just barely the morning. Dean walked toward the door, palming the keys from the table and into his pocket softly. He walked to the door, slowly opening it. He had splurged a bit on the motel, so the door didn't creak like usual when he opened it. That was a good thing. He bit back the tears, his teeth puncturing his lip so deeply that blood dribbled down his chin.

He exited before the blood could land on the floor; he didn't want it to look like he had taken or something. Dean didn't want him to worry. One last glance, that was all he would allow himself. And it nearly killed him. He stood in the doorway from the outside, turning and letting his eyes fall to the bed.

There Sam lay, curled against what was moments ago Dean's body, his hair falling just above his eyes, which were closed so peacefully, his mouth curved in a sort of content shape. He looked so innocent…yet so alone. It took everything Dean had to turn and walk away; this was something he had to do. They were never meant for do or die.

He closed the door softly; the hardest part was over. Dean walked to the Impala and threw his bag in the back seat. He sat down, and looked over at the passenger's side, and he felt the tears slipping down his cheeks. No, he couldn't cry now, not yet. Not when it would be so easy to just turn around and go back. So he put the keys in the ignition, started the car, closed his door, and took a deep breath. He had to do this, that's what he kept telling himself. Someone had to go, and looking at him would only make it harder.

They wouldn't have worked out right anyway; Sam…Sam deserved so much better, deserved someone who could love him unconditionally, someone who he could be sure would be there the next day no matter what. He deserved someone besides his brother…he didn't deserve to have to worry about if what he was doing was shameful; he should be with someone whom he could love and show his Stanford friends, someone Dad would be proud of.

Not Dean. Dean was not what Sam deserved. They were always meant to say goodbye when they started this thing; this relationship. If it was so meant to be that they shouldn't be together, why was he crying so hard? Why was it so hard to let go now when Sam hadn't been in his life for two years? Dean wiped the tears away, only to have more form streams down his cheeks. So he backed out of his parking slot, and began to drive.

But then, the door to their motel room swung open with a bang, and it made Dean's chest constrict painfully; Sam stood there in his boxers, his eyes still bleary from sleep but filled with worry. Then, he spotted the Impala, the engine running and turned toward the road. And he ran. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, the tears already filling his eyes. He knew what was going on. He knew Dean wouldn't be back.

But Dean stomped on the gas pedal, and smoke filled the air behind him as the Impala peeled out of the parking lot. Dean couldn't stop his eyes from looking out the rear view mirror; Sam kept running, but then tripped and collapsed on the pavement, fists banging the ground. Dean felt the tears come even faster as he speeded down the road, away from everything he loved. Away from his whole world, from the only thing that mattered to him anymore.

Sam sat back down on his bed inside the motel, sobs raking his body, his face in his hands. Why? Why hadn't he seen this coming? Why hadn't he tried to stop him? He had let his guard down when he was asleep, had trusted Dean to take care of anything if there was a demon in the middle of the night. And Dean had. Sam just hadn't been ready for Dean to leave. Hadn't wanted to see this coming. He should've seen this coming, he should've known. This was all his fault.

_*beep* _

_Hey Sammy, this…this is really hard for me to say. If you're listening to this, then I've left. I just…just want you to know that…this isn't your fault. It's all on me, little bro. Ever since we started this thing, you…*choked sob*…you loved me so much. You were…were so good to me, Sammy, no matter how many girls I flirted with, no matter how much crap I put you through, you were always so damn patient *weak chuckle*. You couldn't have loved me better, Sammy, and you need to move on. That's why I left; you don't deserve this life. You deserve Stanford, and, and someone you can love and who you can marry, someone you can have k-kids with. Sammy, just…don't beat yourself up about this, because I know you will. Don't try to track me down, I'm already too far gone. Just know that…I love you. _


End file.
